


kiss and tell

by thunderylee



Category: Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-17
Updated: 2012-09-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 16:43:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12392043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Tamamori and Miyata can’t fit in the same bed anymore.





	kiss and tell

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written for cotton candy bingo (first kiss).

“One of these days,” Nikaido says, “you should just not pull away.”

“What?” Tamamori replies, giving the slightly younger man an odd look as he tears his eyes from the spot on the ceiling he’d been staring at for no reason in particular.

“You know.” Nikaido leans closer, and Tamamori is pretty sure his whisper is louder than his speaking voice. “When Miyata tries to kiss you.”

Tamamori starts. “What are you even saying?”

“I’m saying you should let him do it,” Nikaido answers, sounding totally casual like he’s not talking about what he’s actually talking about. “He does it _all the time_. It would be funny if you shocked the fuck out of him by doing it back.”

“I can’t do that,” Tamamori replies, making a face. “It’s Miyacchi. Don’t be gross.”

Nikaido rolls his eyes. “It’s just a kiss. It’s not like I’m telling you to tongue him giraffe-style or anything.”

Tamamori can’t help but laugh at the jab at Fujigaya’s unfortunate HamaKisu experience. “Just because _you_ kiss all of your friends doesn’t mean everyone else does, Nika.”

“I don’t kiss _all_ of my friends,” Nikaido replies haughtily. “I haven’t kissed _you_.”

“And you won’t,” Tamamori says, suddenly very aware of his lips. “I think I kiss enough people for work, thank you very much.”

“Then don’t do it at work,” Nikaido presses, waggling his eyebrows, and Tamamori shoves him away.

The thing is, Tamamori thinks later when he and Miyata are just hanging out at Miyata’s place playing video games with his brother, Tamamori hasn’t exactly done that before. He has for work, obviously, but that doesn’t count. It’s ironic that he ranks so high on the kissing challenges when his entire experience has been in front of a camera. Or maybe that’s why.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” Miyata tells him, interrupting Tamamori’s inner monologue and scaring the shit out of him. “Jumpy, too. Something going on?”

“Nope,” Tamamori answers, hoping that Miyata isn’t close enough to feel his heart trying to beat out of his chest.

If he does, he doesn’t call him on it, just slings his arm around Tamamori’s shoulder and frowns a little at the way Tamamori involuntarily winces. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

“Yeah, sorry.” Tamamori makes a big show of stretching, knocking Miyata’s arm off of him in the process. “The musical is just kicking my ass.”

“Want to go to sleep?” Miyata asks.

Tamamori looks at him, seeing the concern on his face and complete dismissal of anything other than Tamamori’s welfare right now, and feels something like a tug that has him compensating his balance and nearly falling backwards. This just backs up his excuse of exhaustion, and the next second has him pulled up from the floor and half-carried half-dragged down the hall, where he’s flung unceremoniously onto Miyata’s bed.

“I’ll sleep on the futon,” Miyata says. “You don’t need to be cramped.”

“Shut up and get in,” Tamamori grumbles, curling up along his usual side of the small twin bed. “I sleep better when you’re here.”

As Miyata climbs in next to him without argument, Tamamori’s eyes fall shut, and he’s out the second he feels Miyata’s shoulder pressed along his spine. When he wakes up, he’s sprawled out on his back with an arm and a leg flung over Miyata, who just snores lightly. Tamamori’s not often the first one awake, so he takes the opportunity to watch Miyata’s face, which he realizes is creepy, but it’s nothing compared to how creepy Miyata usually is with him.

His eyes land on Miyata’s lips and he remembers Nikaido’s ‘advice’, trying unsuccessfully to push it out of his mind as he wonders what it would be like to kiss Miyata. It probably wouldn’t be anything like a drama kiss, or kissing girls for Kisumai Busaiku; he wouldn’t be doing it under someone else’s direction, for one thing. He’d be doing it on his own.

The revelation that he actually _wants_ to kiss Miyata surprises him so much that he falls right off the bed, pulling half of the covers down with him, and the next thing he knows is Miyata in his face, hovering over him with panic in his droopy eyes as he yells Tamamori’s name and shakes his shoulders.

“Quiet, Miyacchi, I’m fine,” Tamamori whines, squirming at the close proximity and turning his head to the side to breathe his own air. He feels Miyata’s forehead on his chest and notices the large sigh of relief Miyata lets out, lifting his hand to pat Miyata’s shoulder. “I’m fine.”

“You _scared_ me,” Miyata gasps, and Tamamori scrambles to lean up on his elbows because Miyata’s actually upset. “I’m sleeping on the futon from now on, okay? At least for the rest of the musical.”

“Okay,” Tamamori says, because right now he’d agree to anything Miyata says with those eyes. Tamamori can’t even tell what emotion it is, just that it physically hurts Tamamori to look at him. “Sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” Miyata asks, laughing a little as he calms down. “You didn’t fall out of bed on purpose, did you?”

“No…” Tamamori says slowly, unsure how to explain. He can’t tell Miyata what had really caused him to freak out; he’d probably get even more upset. But thinking about it again has his eyes flicking down to Miyata’s lips, now awake and lightly pressed together, and then he feels that tug again.

“Everything okay in there?” Miyata’s mother calls through the door, and Tamamori’s first instinct is to shove Miyata off of him, sending him flying nearly halfway across the room.

Miyata gives him a strange look. “Yeah, Tama-chan just fell out of bed.”

The laughter he gets in response has Tamamori frowning. “Just like Tamamori-kun. Come and get some breakfast since you’re awake, both of you.”

“Okay,” Miyata replies, leaning over to help Tamamori up as they get to their feet.

At the breakfast table, Miyata’s mom is eyeing them both, and Tamamori focuses on eating as fast as he can so they can leave for the theater. He doesn’t think it’s possible to read minds, but it sure feels like she knows exactly what he was thinking about her son.

“Your face is pink,” Miyata comments as they take their dishes to the sink. “Are you coming down with something?”

“I hope not,” Tamamori answers honestly. “We’re not even halfway through the musical run.”

“Maybe you should stay at your own house tonight,” Miyata says gently.

“That’s probably a good idea,” Tamamori says, though he’s positive that they both have different reasonings for it.

The rest of the week passes without incident, Tamamori staying too busy to focus much on his confusion, though the nights are much longer without Miyata sleeping next to him. He’d gotten used to it, strangely enough; he hadn’t been lying when he’d told Miyata that he sleeps better that way. They couldn’t stay over at each other’s places all the time, of course, but it had just seemed easier to do so since they were working together every day.

Their manager has the decency not to schedule them for much until Dream Boys is over, but a taping of HamaKisu slips by and Tamamori can barely stay awake. They’re used to him spacing out during these things, though, and it’s not like Miyata and Senga are much better off. Tamamori ends up on a team with Nikaido and Miyata, who take pity on him and let him nap between takes while they do all the work.

“Just like Sleeping Beauty,” he hears Nikaido teasing, and he swats his hand in the general direction of the sound without opening his eyes. It makes contact with nothing, leaving Tamamori stuck with one of his arms hanging off the bench and no energy to pick it back up.

“If Tama-chan is Sleeping Beauty, then he’ll only wake up from a kiss!” Miyata declares.

“You should wake him up, then,” Nikaido says, and Tamamori wonders if he’s ever known the concept of subtlety in his life.

“I’m nowhere close to a prince, though,” Miyata says, sounding sad about it, and Tamamori peeks open his eyes enough to frown at him. He doesn’t like when Miyata talks down on himself like that.

“You won’t know until you try~” Nikaido eggs him on, pushing Miyata closer to the bench, and Tamamori peeks again to find Miyata’s face moving towards his.

This has happened a thousand times before, and Tamamori has always turned away. Then Miyata will laugh and pout about being denied. It’s their fanservice—Miyata has been chasing Tamamori for so long that this feels natural to him, at least until Tamamori doesn’t move.

Miyata catches the corner of his mouth and Tamamori’s eyes fly open, suddenly wide awake and scrambling to fold himself into the farthest corner of the bench, gaping at Miyata.

“Sorry, sorry,” Miyata says, not looking sorry at all as he grins at finally succeeding in stealing a kiss from Tamamori. “Looks like it worked after all!”

Tamamori hears snickers and directs his glare toward Nikaido, who just returns them all to the task at hand with an evil glint in his eye. It had all happened so fast that Tamamori wouldn’t have believed Miyata had actually kissed him if it wasn’t for the fact that the part of his lips with which Miyata had made contact still tingle long after the fact.

There’s a show that night and Tamamori’s mother is waiting up for him when he gets home, because for the past two nights he hasn’t made it any further than the couch, and barely that. It’s times like these that he’s grateful that he still lives at home, because he can act like a spoiled child all he wants and she’ll take care of him.

“Did you and Miyata-kun have a fight?” she asks carefully, perching on the edge of his bed after she tucks him in.

He frowns, forcing his eyes open. “What? No.”

“Oh,” his mother replies, looking relieved. “I’m glad. Just spending some time apart then?”

“I guess,” Tamamori mumbles, ignoring the way his lips tingle at the memory of earlier. “We’re really too tired after the shows to do anything but sleep. Well, I am, anyway.”

His mother looks like she’s cringing a little, but then puts on a smile. “Whatever makes you happy, dear. I like him a lot. He’s very good to you.”

Tamamori blinks. “He’s annoying.”

Now she laughs, patting his hair before standing up. “Good night, Yuuta.”

“‘Night, Mom,” Tamamori replies, and the next thing he knows is his alarm blaring in his ear.

Five snooze cycles later, he’s stumbling out of bed to repeat the day all over again, only with more shows and less kissing. Hopefully. Though it’s worse when he has to look at Miyata, specifically his lips, and that tingle returns.

“You’re avoiding me~” Miyata sing-songs to him between scenes. “Are you mad about the kiss? I’m sorry. I honestly thought you would turn away like you always do.”

“I’m not mad,” Tamamori refutes, because it’s true, even if that’s the only thing he knows right now.

“Oh, I’m glad.” Miyata heaves a sigh of relief, and Tamamori feels a pang of guilt because Miyata had clearly worked himself into quite a state thinking he upset Tamamori. “It didn’t get on camera, so don’t worry.”

“I don’t even care about that,” Tamamori tells him. “Nikaido saw it, which means everybody in the agency and potentially the entire Internet knows by now. I’m surprised my mother didn’t mention it when she was asking about you last night.”

Miyata grins. “Tama-mama asked about me?”

“She thought we were having a fight,” Tamamori relays.

“ _Are_ we having a fight?” Miyata asks carefully.

“No?” Tamamori stares blankly at the concern on Miyata’s face. “What the hell would we be fighting about?”

Shrugging, Miyata’s expression relaxes and Tamamori feels a lot better. It’s almost time for him to go back on stage, so he just takes his leave and heads to the wings. He doesn’t think about Miyata again until after the show is over, when he sees the other man grabbing his bag and seizes one of the straps to halt him.

“It would be okay if you stayed over tonight,” he says, eyes on the bench.

“If Tama-chan wants me to,” Miyata replies, and Tamamori nods once. “I will, then.”

They walk to Tamamori’s place in silence, the comfortable kind that’s mainly due to Tamamori’s complete failure at holding a coherent conversation. He actually thinks he falls asleep on Miyata’s shoulder on the train, suddenly grateful for his split-second decision to invite him over because god knows where he would have ended up if he had traveled by himself.

Tamamori’s mom looks positively elated to see Miyata and rushes to help him carry her son to his room, asking Miyata if he’s hungry and listing nearly everything in the refrigerator to offer him. Miyata politely refuses, and she lingers in the doorway while Miyata dumps Tamamori into his bed and attempts to get him under the covers.

The next time Tamamori opens his eyes, she’s gone, and Miyata’s curled up on a futon on the floor. “The fuck are you doing down there,” he mutters.

“Mm?” Miyata stretches and blinks open his eyes. “I don’t think we can both fit in the bed anymore, Tama-chan. You’re too big now.”

“ _You’re_ too big,” Tamamori retorts, reaching down to swat him in the head, and Miyata just laughs. “I’m the same size I’ve been for the past year. Just because I fell out once doesn’t mean it will happen again. It’s lonely sleeping by myself.”

“You _want_ to sleep with me?” Miyata asks, his voice completely free of malice, and Tamamori’s face heats up as he realizes what he just said.

“I’m just used to it,” he tries to explain. “Having you here. Next to me.”

Miyata doesn’t say anything, and Tamamori actually thinks he’s gone back to sleep until he stands up and nudges Tamamori to the other side of the bed. Tamamori feels smug, his body naturally curling up to Miyata’s arm as the older man lies down next to him.

“I’m happy,” Miyata says, and Tamamori looks up to find him grinning like an idiot.

Tamamori pokes him in the bicep. “Why?”

“Because Tama-chan needs me.”

“Shut up,” Tamamori mutters. “It’s your fault for stealing my first kiss.”

“Your—what?” Miyata sits straight up in the bed, staring down at Tamamori who just whines at all of the movement. “But you’ve kissed plenty times before, on our show and in dramas—”

“Those don’t count,” Tamamori says. “They were for work.”

“Technically we were at work, too,” Miyata points out.

“Yeah, but…” Tamamori trails off. “We weren’t on camera. It’s different.”

Miyata still looks amazed by the news. “But you said in middle school—”

“I lied.”

Miyata’s silent for so long that Tamamori’s eyes fall shut, too tired to be ashamed of anything as he pulls on Miyata’s sleeve to get him to lie back down. He does, but one of his hands ends up on the other side of Tamamori’s face and those lips return to his, covering them completely this time, and there’s much more than a tingle that shoots through Tamamori’s body and leaves him incapable of doing anything to stop it.

Not that he wants to.

All too soon it ends; Tamamori doesn’t realize it right away, not until Miyata’s hand strokes his cheek and Tamamori’s eyes flutter open to see Miyata looking down at him, eyes unreadable.

“I wasn’t sleeping that time,” Tamamori says, his voice barely a whisper.

“If it’s your first kiss,” Miyata says firmly, “it has to be better than that half-assed one from yesterday.”

Tamamori presses his lips together, which just intensifies the feeling. “It was much better.”

“Could it be…” Miyata starts, getting that stupid grin he always gets when he’s about to tease Tamamori. “You liked it?”

“Shut up,” Tamamori says, face burning, and Miyata laughs until Tamamori fists the collar of his shirt. “Shut up and do it again.”

He expects Miyata to make fun of him some more, but he just follows orders and this time he moves his lips in a way that Tamamori’s never done on TV. It makes Tamamori want to move his too, like a series of tiny little kisses in the midst of the kiss itself, and it multiplies the tingles until Tamamori feels it in all of his nerves.

His arms slide around Miyata’s neck and it feels natural, Miyata un-twisting his body to lean over him more comfortably. Tamamori feels like he could do this all night, his fatigue completely gone as Miyata’s kisses give him a brand new kind of energy.

Then he feels something wet on his cheek and pulls away enough to speak. “Are you crying?”

“No,” Miyata answers, obviously lying as he turns to wipe his eyes on his shoulder.

“Why are you crying?” Tamamori asks, his heart breaking at seeing Miyata so upset. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, you didn’t do anything,” Miyata assures him, turning back to Tamamori with glossy eyes and threading his fingers through Tamamori’s bangs. “You’re perfect.”

“Then why—”

Miyata smiles, and his lips look different now that Tamamori knows how they feel. “I’m so happy.”

“Because you’re my first kiss?” Tamamori asks. “And second, I guess.”

“Because I’ve wanted to kiss you like this for so long,” Miyata tells him. “I never thought you would let me.”

“Me neither,” Tamamori admits. “I didn’t know it would be so…intense.”

“Intense?” Miyata repeats.

“Yeah, like…” Tamamori searches for the words. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

“It’s a good feeling, though?”

“A very good feeling.”

Miyata flops halfway on top of Tamamori and hugs him tightly, swinging him as much as he can. “I’m so happy!”

“Oh my god stop moving,” Tamamori mumbles, and Miyata laughs as he abruptly halts his actions. They are chest to chest and Tamamori can feel Miyata’s heart beating, his arms tightening around Miyata’s neck to keep him there, and Miyata’s arms loop around Tamamori’s shoulders as he rests his head on Tamamori’s collarbone. “This is nice.”

“Yeah,” Miyata agrees, sounding a little choked, and Tamamori’s heart aches all over again.

He feels Miyata’s breath on his throat and squirms, turning his head to rub his nose along Miyata’s cheek until Miyata lifts his own head, and this time Tamamori’s the one to press their lips together. It’s just like it was before, only Tamamori can feel Miyata’s body against his and he’s pretty sure his nerves are about to spark out and die with as much as they’re flaring.

Then Miyata’s hand drops to his side and Tamamori gasps, but he stops Miyata from pulling away and finds himself kissing Miyata harder as those fingers slip under his shirt and press against his skin. He’s breathing harshly through his nose and he can feel Miyata tensing against him, though he’s kissing back just as heatedly so it can’t be from anything bad.

Slowly Miyata moves his hand up Tamamori’s ribs and Tamamori arches at the touch, a faint moan sounding from his throat, and he’s embarrassed by the noise until he feels Miyata’s tongue licking between his lips and the tingles explode into a rush of heat. _This_ feeling is familiar, though Tamamori has really only experienced it by himself, but it feels so much better with Miyata’s weight on his chest, fingers rubbing his skin and tongue sliding against his.

Tamamori recalls what Nikaido had said about ‘giraffe-style’ and nearly laughs, though he’s positive that this is much more pleasant than that. It makes him want to be even closer, both hands tugging on Miyata’s shirt to urge him the rest of the way on top of him. It works, but Miyata stakes his knee between Tamamori’s legs and hovers, not making contact at all.

“ _Miyacchi_ ,” Tamamori whines, both hands slipping under Miyata’s shirt to grab onto the flesh of his sides, and Miyata inhales so sharply that for a second Tamamori thinks he had choked. He lifts his heavy eyelids to see Miyata gaping at him, pink-faced with lips plump and shiny.

“Do you even know what you’re asking for?” Miyata’s voice is about three octaves lower than normal, sending a shiver coursing up Tamamori’s spine.

Tamamori bites his lip as he nods. “This feels really good.”

“Yeah,” Miyata says, watching Tamamori’s face as he trails fingers along the line of Tamamori’s hip, making Tamamori squirm rather violently and let out a noise that makes Miyata’s eyes darken. “Do you like that?”

“I like everything,” Tamamori breathes, all of his body begging for more.

“Do you like _me_?” Miyata asks. “Or am I just convenient?”

“What?” Tamamori replies, fighting through the cloudy haze of his mind to focus on Miyata’s words.

“Either way, I’m fine with it,” Miyata goes on, flashing a smile for effect. “I’ll be whatever Tama-chan wants me to be.”

“I’m only doing this because it’s you,” Tamamori says firmly, not fully understanding why he’s so riled up by Miyata’s implication. “It’s okay if it’s Miyacchi. This feels right with you.”

Miyata visibly relaxes, sucking his lips into his mouth and looking like he might cry again. “Really?”

Tamamori nods and instantly Miyata’s back in his mouth, kissing him much harder than before and finally lowering his hips to Tamamori’s to cover his body completely. Right away Tamamori figures out why Miyata had been holding back, because something hard grinds right between Tamamori’s legs and the groan that tickles his tongue has him catching up very fast. He can’t control his own noises as he pushes back on instinct, Miyata’s touch growing rougher as he explores Tamamori’s chest under his shirt.

“Take it off,” Tamamori mumbles against Miyata’s lips, and they break apart long enough to pull both shirts over their heads before diving right back in. Miyata’s skin is hot under Tamamori’s fingers and every touch has him rocking harder, the friction between them driving Tamamori crazy because he’s not used to dragging this out.

He feels fingers hesitate at his waistline and nods so forcefully that he almost bangs his forehead against Miyata’s, arching as Miyata reaches into his sweatpants and curls fingers around him. Abandoning their kiss, he tosses his head back and pushes up into the touch, clutching onto Miyata’s bare back and moaning freely.

“Shh,” Miyata hisses into his throat. “Your mom.”

Suddenly his mother’s words last night make sense. “I’m pretty sure she already thinks we’re doing this.”

“Still…” Miyata starts, but doesn’t help his case by pressing his lips all over Tamamori’s throat. “God, Tama-chan, you’re so hot right now.”

“Yeah?” Tamamori asks, smiling as he turns and finds Miyata’s ear right next to his mouth. “Should I be doing this to you too?”

Miyata’s body jerks like it’s answering the question for him, but Miyata shakes his head. “You don’t have to.”

“What if I want to?” Tamamori replies, feeling ornery as he trails his fingers down Miyata’s stomach toward the waistband of his own sweats. “This is something I know how to do, at least to myself.”

A deep groan vibrates Tamamori’s neck. “Mm, that’s a nice image.”

“Is it?” Tamamori whispers, pressing his lips to Miyata’s ear as he reaches into Miyata’s sweats and bumps something hard and leaking. Miyata groans again and snaps his hips hard enough to make the bed bounce. “Now you’re the one getting loud.”

“Please,” Miyata mumbles, thumbing the head of Tamamori’s cock, and Tamamori feels it in his toes. “Tama-chan, please touch me.”

Tamamori’s fingers are complying without active direction from his brain, pulling a soft moan from his throat at the way Miyata’s length feels in his hand. He squeezes and strokes him, just how he likes it himself, and Miyata likes it too judging by the way his breaths turn into wheezes.

“Is this good?” Tamamori asks, and Miyata nods as he moves his own hand faster. “Ah, Miyacchi, you’re going to make me come.”

“That’s the point,” Miyata says, mouthing his way back up to Tamamori’s lips and there’s nothing tame about their next kiss, tongues chasing each other fueled by the pressure building between them.

Tamamori falls out of Miyata’s mouth as his orgasm hits him, and it’s even more mind-blowing when he’s not the one controlling it. His body rocks beneath Miyata, who keeps pumping him until he’s spent; Tamamori has to bat his hand away when it gets too sensitive.

“Oh my god,” he says, not even bothering to catch his breath. “That was amazing.”

“Tama-chan,” Miyata gasps, and it’s possibly the hottest thing Tamamori’s ever heard in his life, coupled with the way Miyata looks clinging to him, desperate for release. It only gets better when Tamamori returns his focus to his own hand and flicks his wrist, swallowing Miyata’s noises that escalate as he gets closer, until finally he spills over Tamamori’s fingers with a moan that nothing could muffle.

“Well, my mom knows _now_ ,” Tamamori says pointedly, and Miyata laughs through his heaving breaths.

Tamamori lay completely boneless as Miyata reaches for the tissues on his nightstand to clean them up, taking care to get between each Tamamori’s fingers, and Tamamori recognizes the dedicated look that Miyata usually has with him. “You really love me, don’t you?”

“I really, really do,” Miyata answers, biting back a grin as he returns Tamamori’s hand to his person and lies back down next to him.

“I think,” Tamamori says slowly, recalling all of the _feelings_ he gets when Miyata is upset or down on himself, and Miyata doesn’t rush him. “I think I might love you, too.”

Miyata doesn’t say anything, just pulls Tamamori into his arms, and suddenly the bed’s not that small anymore.


End file.
